


Tales from a Frozen Kingdom

by Songbirdsara



Series: Kingdom of Ice [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-03-14 21:17:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13598577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Songbirdsara/pseuds/Songbirdsara
Summary: A series of supplemental stories and flashbacks from the Once and Future Kings timeline.(A canon-compliant story line set four years post YoI, where Yuuri and Victor are two heartbroken idiots and their friends just want them to figure their shit out.)Latest Update 11/9: An all-night conversation brings healing to our darling duo.





	1. The Golden Knight's Betrayal

**Author's Note:**

> This vignette is an expanded flashback relating to Chris and Victor's fight following Chris' retirement. Aspects of this flashback are referenced in several chapters of Once and Future Kings, especially chapter 4.

**August, 3 years ago, St. Petersburg**

“Yuuuu-uurri?”

“Hmmmm?” Murmured the sleepy raven-haired man from his blanket huddle on the couch.

“Assignments are out!” 

“Oh! I’m up, I’m up!” Yuuri struggled to extricate himself from the warm cocoon before joining his husband (Husband!! Would that ever get old?) in huddling near the glowing laptop propped on the counter. He wrapped his arms around Victor’s waist and peered over his shoulder. 

“Skate America and Rostelecom!” the taller man cheered. “And for you… Cup of France and NHK!” He turned to catch his husband’s lips in a warm kiss. 

“Mmmmmm,” the Japanese skater crooned into the kiss, before sighing. “That’s a lot of travel, wish we’d been placed at one of the same competitions.” He pouted slightly, already imagining how exhausting the season would be.

“Wellll, they don’t usually place the medalists from the previous year in the same events the following season. We lucked out last season since I took the previous year off,” Victor pointed out musingly. “Annnd, I suppose you don’t have to attend my competitions if you don’t want to…” his shoulders slumped slightly as he unwillingly offered the option to the younger figure.

“Not on your life Nikiforov! I’ve waited my entire life to get front row tickets to your performances, no way am I giving up that privilege now!” Yuuri grinned up at his lover. Victor’s eyes lit up with joy as he hugged his beautiful spouse before turning back to the screen, looking for the placements of their friends. 

“Oh! Phichit will be at NHK too!” Yuuri cheered. “And we both get to skate against Yuri this season!”

“He’ll be out for blood after spending last season trying to cope with his growth spurt,” mused Victor. “To be fair, more than 15 centimeters in a year is enough to throw off anyone’s balance… he’s lucky he was able to compete at all!” Yuuri nodded his agreement. Beside him, he felt his husband suddenly tense.

“Vitya?” he wondered. “What is it?”

“I… I don’t see Chris’ name,” Victor replied, voice flat. Yuuri turned his eyes back to the glowing screen, scanning the assignments before slowly nodding in agreement. 

“He… he didn’t say anything to you at the wedding?” He ventured hesitantly. 

“I… we talked a few times? Especially at my stag party? But… Yuu-uuri… there was a lot of champagne!” Victor whined. Yuuri rolled his eyes. He couldn’t really say much, he had managed to forget a thing or two while drunk on champagne after all!

“Well, I remember he kind of hinted that he was considering stepping away permanently?” Yuuri offered hesitantly. Victor’s expression darkened and Yuuri bit his lip. “Maybe I’m wrong? But… maybe you should call him? He’s your best friend… I’m sure he’ll talk to you about it!”

Victor shook his head. “It’s a mistake, it has to be a mistake. He’s two years younger than me, and yeah, he pulled out of European’s and World’s last season, but he just needed a break… he wouldn’t miss the Grand Prix. Not in an Olympic qualifying year… Not without warning me!”

Yuuri merely held his husband closer. “Call him, love. You haven’t spoken in a while. Maybe he’s waiting for you to reach out?” He trailed off nervously, not entirely certain that his darling would enjoy the phone call, but vowing to be there for him once it ended. He had a terrible feeling that Victor would not enjoy the results of this particular conversation…

**August, 3 years ago, Geneva**

A tall blond figure drowsily blinked as his phone began vibrating on his nightstand. 

“Chris. Darling. Your phone…” murmured the lovely brunette tucked against his side. 

“Too early,” Chris muttered. His partner chuckled. 

“Love, it’s nearly 2 in the afternoon,” Masumi pointed out. 

Damn the man for his silly logic. With an only slightly over-exaggerated stretch, he finally reached for his phone. Glancing at the screen, he noted that he’d missed the call. The nickname “Silver Bae” flashed as he groaned. 

“Chris? What’s wrong?” 

“I have a feeling I’m going to be on the phone for a bit. Something tells me Victor just saw the Grand Prix assignments.” Masumi grimaced in understanding. 

“I’ll get something started for brunch, come out when you’re ready.” Chris smiled fondly at his lover, then turned his attention back to the screen and pressed the button to return Victor’s call. 

“Victor, cher, sorry to miss your call… to what do I owe the pleasure?” he purred. There was a lengthy pause and Chris closed his eyes, waiting for his dearest friend to break the silence. 

“Yuuri and I were just checking the placements for the Grand Prix,” Victor finally spoke, feigning nonchalance. 

“Mmmmm, yes, the two of you will have quite a bit of traveling to do in the coming months,” Chris commented, mimicking the Russian’s tone.

“Yes, well, according to the listings, you won’t be traveling very much.”

Chris flinched slightly at the edge in his friend’s voice. “No, I’m not planning on traveling much this year,” he offered hesitantly. 

“You’re 27, Chris.”

“Mmmmmm,”

“I’m two years older than you and I’m still competing.”

“Yes, well, not all of us are devastatingly talented Russian legends. Besides, you stepped away to coach when you were 27.”

“I took a break. Because I _fell in love_. And I came back! Chris, you can’t be serious.”

Chris sighed. “Vitya, I have never been able to take gold when you were at the same competition. And now, with your angry kitten and your own darling turning into such podium climbers… not to mention Altin and the others… I’m barely earning any medals these days. It’s time for me to step away.”

“Huh. I never thought you were a quitter,” spat the Russian. “I thought you loved the ice as much as I did.”

“Victor, just because I’m retiring from competition doesn’t mean I won’t still be involved in skating! There’s exhibitions and tours… I’ve been given an open offer from NBC to commentate at the Olympics and I think they’d keep me on for regular ISU competitions if I asked. Something about 'spicing up the commentary'…”

Victor snorted. “Sounds like you’ve got it all worked out. It’s funny, I thought I meant something to you, y’know. You were in my fucking wedding Chris!”

“Victor…”

“No! I’m supposed to be your BEST FRIEND. You cut me out of something this important? That’s not what friends do!”

“Because I knew you’d react this way Victor! And I tried to talk with you at the stag party, but you’d been drinking, and I didn’t want to push.”

“It’s not too late to change your mind Chris. Don’t do this, don’t quit just because competitions aren’t as easy as you might like. Don’t take the lazy way out.”

“So, what, I should just push myself into the ground? Skate until I physically can’t?”

“You know I don’t mean that, I just think you’re taking the easy path. You’re not retiring, you’re just giving up. Quitting. The man I knew would never just walk away.”

“Then maybe you never actually knew me.”

“I guess not. Enjoy your retirement Chris. Good luck with _NBC_ ,” the sneer in Victor’s voice was apparent even on the phone. Chris pursed his lips, feeling his famous good nature finally cracking.

“Good luck this season Victor. I’d suggest not using this number again until you’re ready to admit that you’re being an ass. Goodbye.”

The blond Swiss clicked out of the call, frustrated, but certain he’d receive an apologetic phone call in the next few days. There was no way Victor would let their long friendship die just because Chris was no longer competing. He made his way into the kitchen, wrapping his long arms around his boyfriend’s waist and breathing in the scent of the sizzling bacon. Victor may have found his life and love on the ice, but for Chris, it was right here, in this kitchen.

**May, Present Day, Geneva**

*bzzbzzzbzz* 

Chris glanced at his phone, blinking in surprise at the name on the display. 'Silver Bae' flashed across the screen as Chris grinned at the message that popped up beneath the name.

_I am an ass. Let me make it up to you?_

Well, then. He had long ago given up hope of hearing an apology from Victor Nikiforov. But then, he always was full of surprises. Chris' fingers flashed over the screen as he sent his response.

_But of course._


	2. Gathering the Court

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phichit and Chris throw their best friends' stag parties in Barcelona. It turns into a very long night.

**June 10th, 3 years ago, Sheremetyevo Airport**

As he made his way back to gate, Yuuri absent mindedly glanced at the back-cover blurb on the novel he had just purchased from the overpriced book store. He didn’t really need another book for the trip, but he had needed to do something to expend the nervous energy that was coursing through his veins. As he approached his waiting fiancé, he realized he wasn’t the only one with nervous energy to burn. The bouncing knees and guilty look on the face of the elegant silver-haired man slumping in the plastic seat were enough to have the Japanese man grinning.

“Something you’d like to tell me, Vitya?” A faint pink blush crossed his lover’s fair cheeks and Yuuri laughed as he plopped into the seat beside him. “Vitya?” He prodded, nuzzling his face into Victor’s now blazing red neck. 

“Yuu-uuuri, it’s nothing!” The taller man wriggled awkwardly, causing Yuuri to giggle and snuggle further into the burning skin. The Russian finally humphed in distress and muttered something too quickly for Yuuri to understand. 

“Sorry, what was that?” His brown eyes were teasing, and his voice held barely suppressed laughter. 

The tall silver blond rolled his eyes. He was rapidly learning how wicked his fiancé’s sense of humor could turn. Sighing, he spoke more clearly. “You put a lock on your garment bag.” Yuuri dissolved into helpless laughter as Victor pouted beside him.

Gasping for breath, the raven-haired beauty finally responded. “Because I know you too well, Nikiforov! You can see my tux on the day of the wedding!” He softened his scold with a gentle kiss, drawing an answering smile from the man at his side. 

“Mmmmmm, Yuuri! We’re getting married!” Victor wriggled in excitement. 

“We are absolutely getting married,” his beloved agreed. “I’m never letting you get away from me!” 

Victor smiled in contentment. ‘Never’ was the most beautiful word he had ever heard.

**June 14th, Three Years Ago, Barcelona**

“KATSUDAMN!”

“PEACHES!” 

The two dark haired men collided in a laughing hug as they met in the hotel lobby. 

“Are you ready for this? I’m getting you so drunk tonight!” Phichit vowed solemnly, laughing as his best friend nervously bit his lip. 

“Oh god. How much am I going to regret letting you plan my stag party?” Yuuri sighed in resignation, desperately casting his eyes towards the other end of the lobby where Victor was wrapped in a similarly enthusiastic embrace with Christophe. Phichit laughed, watching Yuuri’s gaze latch onto his fiancé. 

“Go make your goodbyes, lover boy. You’ll see each other later!” Yuuri rolled his eyes but pulled back to comply, making his way towards where Victor and Chris were chatting amiably. 

“Yuuri! It’s so mean of them to split us up!” Yuuri laughed at the taller man’s pout. Ridiculous. How had he never guessed growing up how absolutely ridiculous his idol truly was? He grinned up at his lover before pulling him down into a kiss. 

“Phichit promised we’ll see each other later. Try to have fun?” Victor nodded, pressing his forehead against the smaller man’s. 

“Only if you promise too!” Yuuri grinned his agreement, then offered one last gentle kiss before making his way back across the lobby and throwing himself on the mercy of a very wicked Thai skater.

**Bar #1, Yuuri’s Party**

“OHMYGOD, I can’t BELIEVE I get to be at your STAG PARTY! This is the SINGLE. GREATEST. MOMENT. Of my ENTIRE life.” 

Yuuri rubbed his forehead. He was definitely not drunk enough for Minami Kenjirou’s enthusiasm right now. God. Was he even old enough to be here? 

“Do a shot with me, Yuuri-senpai??” The pleading eyes shimmered before him and Yuuri agreed. Shots were sort of the point of tonight, right? Besides, a few shots would help him remember that he had chosen to befriend the younger skater, despite his discomfort with Kenji’s blatant hero worship. Right. He reached immediately for the tiny glass of brown liquor when it was offered, smiling as the younger man toasted him and, throwing back his head, downed the burning liquid. The whiskey seemed to stoke something warm in his belly, and he grinned at his tiny fellow skater. Ok! Tonight would be fun!

**Bar #1, Victor’s Party**

Georgi was sobbing. Had… had he even finished his first drink? Victor glared at Chris across the table, rolling his eyes when the tall Swiss skater merely grinned at him. “A round of shots for the table, I think?” The blond had the gall to wink at him. 

“Vodka. Now. Please?”

Georgi merely sobbed harder at the mention of alcohol. “My Natalia loved vodka! Why? Why would she leave me? She was supposed to be my plus one for life!”

Victor reached for the offered shot, grimly tossing it back. Tonight was going to be the longest night of his life.

**Bar #2, Yuuri’s Party**

“Yuuko, Yuuko, you… you are just the best.” 

“No. Yuuri! You’re the best! I just love you so, so much. You’re amazing Yuuri-chan!” 

“I just, I just always looked up to you so much. You’re so strong and pretty and awesome!”

Takeshi rolled his eyes and propped his giggly wife up on the bar stool. “You know Phichit, I’d almost be worried if I didn’t know Yuuri was definitely way too into Victor to be after my wife!”

Phichit laughed and signaled the bartender for the tab. "I thought she was supposed to be the, uh, dd tonight?" He aimed a pointed look at Yuuko's rather prominent baby bump. Takeshi boomed out a deep laugh.

"Hormones, mostly. That and it's the Yuuri effect. Get the two of them together and it's a non-stop love fest."

Phichit smiled gently. "Yeeah... that tends to happen to people around Yuuri."

**Bar #2, Victor’s Party**

“CHRIIIIIIS, come daaaance with me!” 

The tall blond squinted down at the tiny redhead who appeared to be… gyrating… against him in the dim club lights. Mila. That was her name. A friend of Victor’s from the St. Petersburg Club. He sighed and gently pried her off his waist while reaching for a glass of water. 

“Here darling. Drink this and we’ll dance as much as you like, alright?” God. When had he become the responsible one?

“Mmmmm, you’re so nice! You’re so tall and so nice!” Chris sighed, looking around for the man of the hour. Spying a slender silver-blond figure leaning against the bar, he gently extracted himself from the Russian girl’s grasp and made his way towards his friend.

“Hello darling,” he purred, leaning into the other man’s space. “Come here often?” Victor laughed weakly and raised his glass towards Chris in salute. “What’s wrong Vitya? Aren’t you having fun?” His voice twisted in concern as he gazed down at the slightly shorter man.

“I am! I am!!” The silver legend widened his eyes and waved his hands, not wanted his best friend to be concerned. “I just needed a break! I’d like to make to the end of night in some semblance of consciousness.” He smirked at his longtime rival, not wanting him to worry. The Swiss man raised an eyebrow.

“Victor, I’ve been meaning to talk to you…” he started, but suddenly Georgi crashed into them, clutching several glasses of champagne.

“Victor! In celebration of true love, we must toast with the most romantic of drinks! To you and your Yuuri!” Victor laughed and gamely downed one of the drinks, saluting Chris as he did. Chris merely sighed before sipping from his own glass. Another time then, he thought.

**Bar #3, Yuuri’s Party**

Yuuri was crying. Phichit was fucked, because this was supposed to be a good night and Yuuri was crying. 

“I just, Phichit, I just never thought he could ever love me and now he's marrying me and how am I supposed to live up to him? He’s so perfect and I’m just so me and what am I even doing?” The Japanese skater wailed into Phichit’s shoulder.

“Yuuri! Stop! Victor is crazy about you! It’s, like, legendary. The way he looks at you… how can you doubt that he loves you?” Phichit frantically tried to comfort his sobbing friend, nervously searching for help, because this was not how he envisioned the night going! 

“I knoo-oooow!” Yuuri wailed, further confusing his college roommate. 

“KATSUKI YUURI! You will cease this unbecoming behavior at once!” The sharp voice cut through Yuuri’s wailing and both he and Phichit jumped at the sound. 

“Mii-Minako-Sensei!” Yuuri slurred, shocked out of his drunken tears. 

“You are being ridiculous,” the stern ballet instructor stated. She plopped down a glass bottle and several small glasses. Phichit goggled at the sight. Where on earth had she managed to find shochu in Barcelona? The slim woman poured a round of drinks, offering her cup to the younger men in a toast. 

“Yuuri, I have trained you since you were a toddler. You have always lacked confidence in your own talent and beauty. That needs to end, now. Victor _loves_ you. He _respects_ you. He _believes_ in you. You need to believe in him just as much. Do you understand?” Yuuri’s eyes had glowed brighter and brighter with each statement, and he joined Minako and Phichit in drinking back several glasses of the shochu before making his way back towards the main party.  
Minako watched him stagger through the bar with a pensive gaze. Then, so softly Phichit almost doubted he really heard her she sighed… 

_“And if Victor ever hurts you, I’ll be the first in line to destroy him.”_

**Bar #3, Victor’s Party**

Chris was extremely confused. He was fairly certain he had not invited Yuuri’s sister to Victor’s stag party. So why, exactly, was Katsuki Mari locked in an intense conversation with her brother’s fiancé? He sighed, not sure whether or not he should interfere. On the one hand, Victor was his best friend. On the other, he was fairly certain Mari could take him in a fight. He threw back both his drink and caution before wandering towards the pair.

“He’s shy Nikiforov-san. You break him, I break you.” Mari was slurring as Chris approached. Oh, shit. He really shouldn’t have come over here. Victor’s eye were blown wide, either with booze or panic, the Swiss skater couldn’t be sure.

“Mari Nee-chan, I love him. I love him so, so much. I would never…”

“You’d better. Because he loves you. More than anything. If you hurt him, I don’t know that he’ll ever recover.” The pierced Japanese woman glared up at the taller Russian man before turning towards the bar and waving towards the bartender. “Now. Shots. Because you’re family now. Or something. I guess.” Chris was certain that no man had ever looked quite so terrified at the concept of family.

 **Final Bar, Joint Party**  
   
“Yuuu-uuri!”

“Vitya!”

The lovers crashed together in a happy, drunken mess as their bemused friends and family watched. 

“Victor, you… you are so, _so_ pretty. Did you know how pretty you are?” Yuuri slurred as Victor giggled happily. 

“No. No you are so lovely. Your eyes and… and when you do that thing with your hair and you put your glasses on and it’s just so so sexy…” Mari and Minako abruptly turned towards the bar, not wanting to hear further conversation. 

Phichit and Chris slumped against a nearby table, silently toasting each other before returning their gazes to the soon-to-be married pair. Yuuri had somehow managed to unbutton half his shirt and Victor seemed well on his way towards finishing the task. Sighing, the semi-sober pair downed their drinks before turning towards the task of wrangling their friends into a less public setting. 

"They really are made for each other, aren't they?" Chris murmured. Phichit could only nod in agreement, glad that his dearest friend would finally have his happy ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Yurio is still too young to bar hop at this point. He and Otabek have been roped into watched the triplets for the night. Pray for their souls.
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day. I couldn't resist polishing this little backstory drabble. I was craving something sweet!


	3. The Prince's Wrath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Yuuri Katsuki begs for his help, Yuri Plisetsky is a bit annoyed. When Katsudon starts crying, he's just fucking pissed. What the hell has Victor _done_?

**Early March, 2019**

Pissed does not cover Yuri’s mood. Pissed does not even _start_ to cover Yuri’s mood. It was his rest day and that had already gone to hell when Katsudon called him, sounding like _shit_ , and offered to buy him lunch. Which, whatever. Katsudon just did crap like that, and Yuri was fine spending the idiots money. But he had still been sleeping, so being woken up by a shrill ringtone was enough to set him off. He might have snapped at the caller. He felt a little guilty over that, which didn’t help his mood. Now he was sitting in a little corner booth and he had progressed beyond pissed. He was fucking _furious_. 

Because Katsudon looked like hell. His eyes were swollen and red behind his glasses and the Japanese man held himself like one wrong look would shatter him into a million pieces and Yuri knew _exactly_ who to blame. 

“What the HELL did that fucker do?” 

The older skater flinched at the words, looking close to tears. Ah hell no, Yuri did NOT do tears. Frantically beckoning for the waiter, he ordered a pair of vodka sodas, earning a disapproving glare from the other man. Whatever, glares were better than tears any day. “I’m 19. If I want to drink vodka at 11:00 a.m. on my rest day, I’ll fucking do it. And you _clearly_ need a drink.” Yuuri rolled his eyes but flashed a small smile and the blond teen felt a flash of relief. They waited while the drinks were delivered, and he glared until the other man finally took a sip. “Good. Now spill. What the fuck is this about Katsudon?”

The raven-haired man took a larger sip of the drink and shuddered. “I’m going back to Japan.” 

“Um, no shit. World’s is in Saitama. We’re all going to Japan. In, like, two days.” Yuuri finally raised his head, brown eyes miserable and, oh. Shit. “You’re not coming back to Russia,” Yuri whispered. “You’re _leaving_.” 

“I’m sorry. I just… I have to go,” Yuuri stutters. “I need… I know I shouldn’t impose but… I need help and I don’t know who else to ask.” His shoulders slumped, defeat written in every line of his body. 

The younger man slung back the icy vodka, blood boiling. He doesn’t have a lot of friends, but this confusingly soft yet strong man has always treated him like one, even when Yuri hadn’t deserved it. There’s no question.

“What do you need? And who do I need to kill?”

**A few hours later**

“Oi. Katsudon. What time does the shithead usually get home?” 

The raven-haired man sighed. “ _Victor_ usually gets done at the rink around 6:00.” He paused, a sardonic twist to his lips. “What time he gets home depends on whether or not he goes for a few drinks first.”

“Fucking jackass. So, we’ve got time. What else is going?” He looked up from the box of CDs and movies he’d been taping shut. 

“Mmmm, I don’t really have that much. Clothes, some computer stuff, a few of the pictures and decorations, skating gear, my old costumes, my medals…”

Yuri snorted. “So, most of this shit is the old man’s? No surprise there.” The other man shrugged half-heartedly. 

“I went from a dorm, back to my parent’s house and then moved in with Victor. I never really lived on my own, so… I just sort of inherited his stuff. I guess I didn’t really make much of a mark while I was here.” He says the last sentence in a soft, sad tone. Yuri feels his eyes burn, and fuck, Katsudon’s sentimentality is rubbing off on him. 

“Bullshit. You left a mark here. You made a mark at the rink, you made a mark with him. You’re the best fucking thing that ever happened to that moron and one day he’s going to realize what a shitty mistake he’s made. I’ll make goddamn sure of it.” And, oh, oh shit. Yuuri is crying. Yuuri is _hugging_ him. Fuck. 

After a few minutes of definitely not hugging the man back, he cleared his throat. “We should get this finished Katsudon.” If his voice is softer than normal, well, nobody else needs to know. 

***

He doesn’t ask questions as they load the scant handful of boxes into the bed of his grandfather’s aging pickup truck. He doesn’t question the silk ribbon peaking out of Yuuri’s pocket, the one he knows is attached to a Grand Prix Final medal. And when Yuuri takes a deep breath and asks if he can come to his apartment later that evening, he doesn’t hesitate to offer the couch for the next couple of nights. He’s a punk but he’s not fucking heartless. 

***

He finally starts to ask questions when Yuuri showed up a few hours later, eyes sunken and haunted. “What the hell happened Katsudon?” The dark-haired skater draws a shaky breath and shakes his head.

“It doesn’t matter Yuri. Sometimes… things just don’t work out.”

“Tcha. I’m not a kid anymore Katsuki, you don’t have to give me fucking platitudes.” 

“It’s between Victor and I…”

“FUCK THAT! This affects me too! You’re the only thing that’s made him bearable these last four years! Now he’s just going to go back to being a perfectly insufferable _asshole_. You’re _leaving_!”

Suddenly there were arms around him again and, holy shit, was he fucking crying? Yuri Plistesky does NOT fucking CRY. 

“Oh Yura. I’ll miss you too.”

***

Victor didn’t show up at the airport. Yuri had still half expected him to be there, since he was still Yuuri’s coach, right? The Japanese man only shook his head when the young Russian voiced the question. Still, Yuri kept expecting to see the familiar silver-haired figure, hopefully arriving with some grand gesture that will fix this and keep Yuuri from leaving all of them. 

The jackass never shows. 

Yuuri surprised the world by winning gold anyways. The Russian teen can’t even bring himself to be mad. 

***

Victor doesn’t show up at the rink for a week after World’s and Georgi is forced to cover his classes. When Yakov finally drags the man back to work he is thinner, and his eyes are frighteningly blank. Yuri would almost care, but Yuuri is fucking gone and it is clearly Victor’s fault. 

Time passes, and that blankness doesn’t fade. 

In May, the news breaks that Japan’s top male skater is returning to Detroit, supposedly to pursue graduate studies. Everyone knows it’s really because he needs a coach, and at least Celestino Cialdini knows how to work with him. Speculation over Victor’s absence from Yuuri’s side runs rampant. 

Passing Victor’s office, Yuri hears glass shattering. Well shit. Not his problem, not his problem, not his… _fuck_. He kicks in the door. 

“What do you think you’re doing, Yuri?” The blankness in Victor’s eyes is gone, replaced by blazing fury. Yuri can’t help but notice that they are also suspiciously red. A picture frame lies near the door, shattered glass spilling onto the carpet. Glaring at the silver-haired coach, he toes the frame over. A photo of Victor and Yuuri on their honeymoon glares up at him. Huh. 

“Seen the news then, have we?”

“Yuri, this is NOT the time,” Victor warns, turning away. 

“Not the time? For what? To point out that nobody’s seen or heard from the Pig since World’s and now he’s moving to Detroit? To point out that you look like fucking shit? What is it not the fucking time for Victor?”

The tall coach whirls, fury etched into every feature. “Back. Off.”

Yuri has gained inches in the last few years. He’s pleased that he and Victor are much closer to the same height now. It means he can glare eye to eye instead of looking up at him like a child. “Or what?” He challenges. 

“Fine. _Fine_. You want to push this? FINE.” Victor’s hands are clenched tight as his body almost vibrates in anger. “You knew something. You were the only one who wasn’t surprised when Yuuri never showed for practice the day before we were supposed to leave for World’s. You knew where he was. You watched me pace by the door the entire fucking day. You knew. All those photos from World’s, you were right there beside him. When did you ever spend that much time with him? What did you do, Yuri?”

Fuck this. He’s had enough. “What did _I_ do? What the hell did you do jackass? Were you that fucking blind to how he’s been acting like a scared fucking kid the last year? What the hell did you do to him asshole?”

The pale, thin silver-haired man looks a little crazed, chest heaving with emotion. “What. Did. You. DO. Yuri? Did you know he was leaving?” He stalks forward, eyes blazing. 

“Fuck you, Nikiforov. This is your own goddamn fault. Maybe if you’d acted like less of a jackass this last year you’d still have a husband.” Yuri winces. Jesus, even in his own mind that was harsh. Too late to take it back now. He looks frantically at the older man. Fuck. He looks absolutely broken. The young Russian feels a pang of something suspiciously akin to guilt. 

“Get out of my office Plisetsky.” 

It’s nearly a year before Victor calls him by his first name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Yuri Plistesky's POV is incredibly cathartic. That's all.


	4. Ladies of the Court

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The women in Yuuri's life are always there to pick up the pieces when he falls. 
> 
> Is anybody really there to catch Victor?

_Best friend. Father. Lover._

_…Ex-lover…_

_In Yuuri’s life, it was the men that were whirlwinds of emotion; chaotic fluctuations that broke the fragile calm he desperately tried to maintain._

_Mother. Sister. Childhood friend. Sensei._

_It was the women that were his bedrock. The women in his life grounded him; calm forces that held steady no matter how hard the storms raged._

**March 23rd, 2019, World Figure Skating Championships, Saitama**

Minako watched as Yuuri stepped off the rink, his shoulders and proudly held chin dropping the minute he stepped across the barrier separating ice and thin carpet. As she guided him to the Kiss and Cry to await his scores, he leaned into her shoulder, absently thumbing at the dent on his right ring finger where gold no longer gleamed. Lost in pensive thought, he barely acknowledged the roar of the crowd as the scores were announced, confirming his third World Championship title. 

“Smile, Yuuri-kun. Just get through the next couple hours and we can go back to the hotel.”

Mechanically, he flashed his teeth, waving at the screaming crowd. His one-time dance instructor turned emergency coach took a firm grip on his elbow and led him through the horde of flashing cameras and invasive microphones. 

_“Katsuki-san, how do you feel after your third World’s title?”_

_“Skater Katsuki, can you tell us why you changed coaches so suddenly?”_

_“Yuuri! How much of today’s win is due to your husband? Will you be utilizing his choreography again next season? Can you comment on his absence this weekend?”_

_“Mr. Katsuki, where is your wedding band? Are you separating from Victor Nikiforov?”_

The Japanese Ace came to a stop, chest heaving and eyes flashing as he whirled on the intrusive reporters. Before he could respond, Minako had stepped in front of him, a gentle but firm hand at his elbow. The slender dancer leveled a cool gaze at the members of the media, shoulders back as she stood between her former student and the cacophony of questions.

“Thank you, but my skater has no remarks at this time. It’s nearly time for the awards ceremony. You can speak with him at the official press conference afterwards.”

Glancing at Yuuri’s pale face, she recognized the familiar blankness in the cinnamon eyes, a clear sign that the young athlete was barely keeping himself together. She guided him into the private area reserved for the medalists as they awaited the ceremony, standing guard. From the corner of her vision, she caught young Yurio taking up a similar protective pose on Yuuri’s other side. Catching her eye, he gave a brief nod. Surprisingly, from across the room she caught the young Canadian bronze medalist leaning protectively across the entryway. As she began to raise an eyebrow, an ISU representative moved into the room to summon the medalists to the ice.

As the young men were called out onto the ice once more, Minako allowed herself a moment to breathe. She would be there as long as Yuuri needed her. Thankfully, it seemed she wasn’t the only one on his side.

**March 27th, 2019, Hasetsu, Japan**

Hiroko furrowed her brow anxiously as her boy slumped over the kotatsu. Toshiya cast a concerned gaze as he passed her, gently gripping her shoulder before raising the bottle of shoyu with a questioning glance in Yuuri’s direction. She frowned her disapproval. Hiroko loved her husband, but his answer to most sorrows was found at the bottom of the bottle. 

Yuuri did _not_ need a drink. Her boy needed to know he was _loved_. 

She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth as she caught Minako’s glance. Her oldest friend sat across from her son, sake bottle abandoned in favor of watching after the heartbroken young man. The former ballerina returned Hiroko’s sober gaze. The anxious mother rushed into the kitchen, frantic to find a way to draw her boy out of his solitude.

A few minutes later, she had relaxed into the familiar hiss and sizzle of the kitchen. Katsudon. Her darling child had won a gold medal, so she would reward him with his favorite meal. 

With a twinge, she recalled that for the last few years, gold medal celebrations had involved her silver-haired boy too. Guilt twisted in her stomach.

Even without Mari’s warning call from Saitama, she would have known something had happened between the son of her blood and the later son of her heart. 

Maternal loyalty and love demanded that she stand with her darling Yuuri, no matter what. The joy that her sweet second-son had brought into her life meant that choosing sides was more painful than she could have anticipated.

Plating the dish, she made her way into the quiet dining area before kneeling next to her boy and gently placing the food in front of him. The cinnamon brown eyes, so like her own, shimmered with emotion as he stared at the meal. His throat bobbed convulsively and then he lunged into his mother’s arms, heartbroken tears shaking his slender frame. 

Hiroko moved her hands soothingly on his back, holding herself steady. Her boy needed her to be strong. As long as he needed her, she’d be there.

**Late-April 2019, Hasetsu**

“So, are you moving back in, then?”

Yuuri looked up from his computer to where Mari was leaning against his doorframe. 

“I don’t know. Maybe.” He pulled his chapped bottom lip back into his teeth as he turned back to his screen. His bed creaked as she settled onto the mattress. Silence filled the room as he continued to aimlessly tap his way through an assortment of news sites. 

“I do that too sometimes, y’know.”

Her brother paused, flashing her a confused look.

“Type Katsuki Yuuri into a search engine. See what the internet is saying about my little brother.”

Yuuri grimaced. 

“Mari…”

“ _Yuuri_ ,” she mimicked. 

“I know what they're saying. Everyone’s expecting me to retire.”

“Right. You’re what? 27? Best pack it up.”

“Mari.” 

She gave him a deadpan look. 

“Is this what you want? To retire now? Coach puddle duck classes at the Ice Rink? Hide away from the world in Hasetsu?”

“I don’t know nee-chan! I thought I had everything figured out and I was WRONG. I won at World’s, maybe I should just quit while I’m ahead.”

“You applied to grad school in Detroit, right? Your old coach is still there…”

“No guarantee I’ll get in.”

Mari sighed.

“Look Yuuri. You could retire. We’d support you. You could move back in, work with the Nishigoris at the rink, let the world drift away…” She paused, then flung a thick envelope with the Wayne State logo into Yuuri’s lap. 

“But you shouldn’t.”

Her brother finally looked at her, clutching the envelope to his chest. 

“Do you know what I find when I search your name? _World record holder._ _Gold medalist._ _Best. In. The. World._ You keep thinking you have to chase _his legacy_. The rest of world knows you’ve already built your own.”

“Nee-chan… I…”

Mari waved her hand to ward off Yuuri’s next words. 

“You should open that envelope little brother. I don’t think they bother sending rejection letters with that many pages.”

She stood to exit the room, thinking vaguely that she needed a cigarette. As passed through the doorway, she risked a glance over her shoulder and smirked when she saw Yuuri tearing open the envelope. Good. Sometimes her brother needed a little tough love. Mari was happy to provide it. 

Maybe in Detroit, Yuuri could find himself again.

**May, 2019, St. Petersburg**

_“Fuck you, Nikiforov. This is your own goddamn fault. Maybe if you’d acted like less of a jackass this last year you’d still have a husband.”_

_“Get out of my office Plisetsky.”_

The sound of raised voices in Victor’s office drew the red-headed skater like a moth to flame. The sudden slam of the door caused Mila to duck around the corner and pretend to crouch over her phone as Yuri stormed past. She was half tempted to follow him to see if she couldn’t tease a bit of gossip out of her younger friend, but the sound of a choked off sob pulled her back to the slightly open office door. 

Biting her lip, Mila nudged her way into the room. Victor crouched near the door, shoulders shaking as he picked shards of glass off the tile floor. 

“Vitya…” she murmured.

The shaking stilled, and the young coach’s hand stiffened involuntarily causing the man to exhale a harsh gasp of pain.

“Jesus! Victor!” Mila lunged for the box of tissues sitting on the desk before crouching down and snatching at his bleeding palm. Tilting it, she gently shook the glass pieces back onto the floor before carefully examining the cut. Icy blue eyes peered up through silver fringe as the older man gazed impassively at the blood oozing in his palm. The redhead tutted in disapproval, gently dabbing with the tissue. 

“You should wash that and put a bandage on before it gets infected,” she fussed. Victor’s lips thinned before he pulled his hand out of her grasp and rose to retreat to his desk. 

“It’s nothing to worry about,” he said tersely. Mila leaned over to retrieve the wooden frame from the pile of shattered glass. 

“Leave it!” Victor barked, before continuing in a calmer tone. “I’ll get someone in here with a broom to deal with it. No sense in you cutting yourself too.”

The young woman gazed impassively at him before resolutely reaching down to pluck the bright photo off the floor. The smiling faces of the handsome couple in the image brought a lump to her throat. 

“Why are you here Mila? I really don’t need anybody else berating me today. Plisetsky was quite enough, thank you.”

“I… I’m not here for that,” she stammered. “… I just thought… I heard he… I thought I’d check on you,” she finished lamely.

Victor stared determinedly at the wad of reddening tissues in his hand. 

“Yuuri Katsuki is spending time with his family in Hasetsu before he returns to training. In Detroit.” His standard media cadence slipped at the last two words and he refused to meet Mila’s eyes. “That’s all I have to say on the matter at this time.”

She stepped forward, photo extended as she approached the desk. Victor resolutely ignored the offering, so she gently set it on the corner. 

“You may want that someday, Vitya,” she said softly, before pivoting to leave. As she reached the door, she paused. 

Turning, she cast troubled blue eyes over his hunched form. 

“Victor,” she began hesitantly. “Maybe… maybe you should take some time off too. Visit some friends? Or… or family?” She paused, uncertain. She’d never really thought to ask Victor about his private life, content in the common knowledge that he was happily married and a fabulous skater and coach. 

Silver hair flew as Victor jerked his head up to lock eyes with her. 

“Duly noted, Babicheva. We’ll discuss your choreography tomorrow. Unless there’s something else you needed?” His tone was flat, eyes once again painfully blank. 

Mila shook her head as she finally exited the office and shut the door. Leaning against the nearby wall, she couldn’t help but listen as Victor began laughing hysterically. 

When the laughter began to sound more like sobbing, she finally fled. 

**June 18th, 2019, Ice Castle Hasetsu**

She found the shattered pieces of blue plastic while making her early morning check on the rink. Squinting in the early morning light streaming through the windows, Yuuko bent over to pocket the odd bit of detritus before running the Zamboni. The young mother forgot about the bits of garbage until later, only remembering them when she reached into her pocket to grab her keys before unlocking the rink for the day.

A nagging familiarity stopped her as she moved to shake the chunks into the garbage bin. Peering closer, she made out the fluffy ear of a cartoon poodle. 

“Ohhhh, Yuuri-chan,” she breathed. Glancing at the calendar hanging over her desk, she winced. Spending an anniversary without your partner… had to be rough. She’d been lucky, other than some squabbles over how much social media usage to allow their girls, they rarely fought. Something awful must have happened to cause Yuuri to fling his phone hard enough to leave shattered plastic on the ice. 

He’d be leaving soon, heading back to Detroit. Hopefully he’d find the healing he needed while he was there. In her heart, she made a secret wish that somehow things would work out between he and Victor. She’d never seen her childhood friend happier than he had been with his idol-turned-spouse. 

And if things didn’t work out… well.

Yuuko would be there to pick up the pieces. As long as Yuuri needed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the things that has always struck me about YOI, a show ostensibly about a group of male figure skaters, is the portrayal of the women in Yuuri's life. This man is so convinced of his own worthlessness at the beginning of the show, yet he is absolutely _surrounded_ by people that adore him and would do anything to protect him. _Especially_ the women in Hasetsu. Unreliable narrator indeed. 
> 
> This is a collection of drabbles and flashback pieces that didn't quite fit into Once and Future Kings or into the upcoming Podiums and Pedestals. They do, however, explore a major theme of P&P - family.


	5. A Kingdom Reclaimed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a 'request' chapter, and takes place after Podiums & Pedestals Chapter 8: The End of Worlds (As We Know It), Pt. 1 
> 
> The opening section can originally be found in Once and Future Kings Chapter 11.

**_Early March 2019, St. Petersburg_ **

 

_Victor sat in bed, arms around his knees as he stared broodingly out the window. Moonlight streamed into the room, bathing his disheveled silver hair in an unearthly radiance. Yuuri’s heart skipped a beat. Even now, even after months of fighting, the older man took his breath away._

 

_“How long were you gone?” The low voice broke Yuuri’s reverie._

 

_“A few hours. I couldn’t sleep. I figured I might as well practice.”_

 

_“Alone.”_

 

_“I… yes. I just needed to think.”_

 

_Victor finally turned his icy blue gaze towards the younger man. “Why are you doing this?”_

 

_Yuuri was taken aback. “Worlds is a week away. I skipped it last year to prep for PyeongChang, I can’t afford to lose this year.”_

 

_“All you do is skate. You’re never home. When I do see you, it’s at the rink… it’s all business. When did you become so medal hungry Yuuri? Is gold the only thing that matters to you now?” The words were quiet but biting. Yuuri blanched._

 

_“What is that supposed to mean? Victor, you’re the one who challenged me to start winning! ‘Five World Championships?’ Remember?”_

 

_The Russian man groans, hands tangling in his hair. “Jesus Yuuri, I wasn’t serious! I was fucking flirting with you! I didn’t expect you to try and actually do it!”_

 

_Across the room, Yuuri feels frozen at the words. “You didn’t actually think I could do it,” he half-whispers, voice caught in his throat._

 

_“I wouldn’t expect anyone to win 5 World Championships, Yuuri.”_

 

_“You did.”_

 

_Victor huffs a quiet, bitter laugh. “You aren’t me, Yuuri.”_

 

_…_

 

_Yuuri’s heart shatters._

****

 

**March 25 th, 2021, Stockholm**

Victor was quiet as they walked back to the event hotel, his brow furrowed as he gazed forward, unseeing. Yuuri would be worried, but his husband’s grip on his hand was firm and steady, so he felt confident they could work through the thoughts troubling them both.

 

The Russian coach blinked as they entered the brightly lit lobby, eyes narrowing at the few lingering members of the press and a handful of other familiar faces. He kept his head down, pulling Yuuri quickly towards the bank of elevators. As the doors closed, he pulled the Japanese man into his arms, leaning his head down to meet the shorter man’s. Still, he didn’t speak, and Yuuri chose not to break the silence, contenting himself with watching over his husband.

 

It wasn’t until they were in Yuuri’s room, jackets shed, shoes off, that Victor finally broke out of his reverie. “Barcelona. This all goes back to Barcelona, doesn’t it?” He finally looked up, meeting Yuuri’s eyes as he drew the smaller man down to sit on the bed with him.

 

A slight, confused smile crossed Yuuri’s face. “I’m sorry?”

 

“Me telling you to get five World Championships. Telling you we wouldn’t get married until you won gold. Telling you I wouldn’t kiss your medal unless it was gold…” His voice cracked on the last word.

 

“Oh, _Vitya…_ ”

 

Victor shook his head. “No, let me finish _lyubov moya,_ self-awareness is a rare enough experience for me.”

 

Yuuri smirked, “Still full of surprises, hmm?” Victor huffed an aborted chuckle at that.

 

“I started winning, well, _everything_ , when I was in my early twenties. I won my first Olympic gold in Vancouver when I was 22. After that, it was like nobody could touch me on the ice. I won my second Olympic gold in Sochi at 26 and by that point… nobody could touch me _off_ the ice either. I was _always_ ‘Victor Nikiforov, the Living Legend.’ Golden. Untouchable. _Perfect._ ” His lips twisted bitterly at the words, and Yuuri pulled him against his chest, stroking his soft silver strands comfortingly.

 

“God, Yuuri, then I won my fifth Grand Prix Final and this beautiful disaster of a man took my hand and _danced_ with me and… it was like I could suddenly _breathe_ again.”

 

Yuuri smiled sadly. “And then I promptly forgot everything.”

 

Victor chuckled. “Yes, well, I caught up with you again in the end. Then, in Barcelona, you told me you wanted to end it and… I would have done _anything_ to keep you in my life. I couldn’t _feel_ before I met you, I had to keep you with me and I had to keep you on the ice…”

 

“So, you came back to figure skating.”

 

“And I issued what I meant to be a flirty little challenge, to get you to keep skating. You always respond so charmingly well to a challenge, darling.” Yuuri blushed, then poked at Victor’s ring thoughtfully.

 

“If, if I had never managed to win gold. Would you still have married me?” He kept his head down, refusing to meet Victor’s eyes.

 

Gentle fingers pulled up on his chin, pulling his head up until he could see the solemn expression on his husband’s face. “And that’s what I meant about this all starting back in Barcelona.” Victor chuckled dryly at Yuuri’s confused expression. “Love, I’d have married you even if you never won another medal. I’d have married you the day after that Final if you’d wanted. There is nothing in this universe or any other that could have kept me from becoming your husband.”

 

Yuuri beamed up at the Russian Legend. “Keep saying sweet things like that and we’ll never actually finish this conversation.” He pressed a chaste kiss against Victor’s answering smile but pulled back when he felt his husband stiffen slightly.

 

Victor bit his lip, his smile faltering into something more pensive and sorrowful. “Have you thought that? For all these years? That I wouldn’t have married you without the medals?”

 

Yuuri shrugged, his eyes shadowed.

 

“Oh, Yuuri,” Victor breathed. “I’m so sorry. I… I never wanted you to feel like that. I just, you did _so_ well. You kept winning, kept succeeding and skating was _fun_ again that first year. You beat me at Worlds, I beat you at the Grand Prix, it was _exciting._ ” Yuuri had sat back on the bed, his thumbs running gently over Victor’s knuckles.

 

“What changed?” He prompted when Victor paused. “When did it stop being exciting?”

 

Victor hesitated, forehead furrowed in thought as he considered the question. “I think… I think it was watching Georgi and then Chris retire. I was angry at Chris, but… part of me was jealous. And so _tired._ ” He took a deep breath. “But part of me was scared that the only reason you were with me was, well, because I was ‘Victor Nikiforov’. So, I had to keep _being_ the ‘Living Legend’ and then…”

 

“PyeongChang,” Yuuri breathed, shoulders slumping. “Vitya, I didn’t… I _never_ meant to make you feel that way. Why didn’t you _say_ anything?”

 

Victor’s lips quirked in an ironic little grin. “Why didn’t _you_ say anything about how I was making you feel before you left? Or about helping Coach the Juniors while I was in PT…” He grimaced. “Why didn’t _I_ say anything before booking that trip to Hasetsu when Flip was born? Or about not wanting to compete in the Olympics?”

 

Yuuri shook his head, chuckling ruefully. “Because we might be slightly terrible at communicating.” 

 

Victor groaned. “God, you _think_?”

 

Yuuri took a moment to nestle against the broad chest, wanting the comfort before diving into the most painful of the wounds they had inflicted upon each other. “The night before I left… you said you didn’t expect me to try and win five Championships. That, that you were just flirting with me…” His voice was small, his face pale in the shadows of the dimly lit room.

 

Victor’s gaze turned haunted, his fingers nervously playing with the ring on Yuuri’s finger. “I… _please_ don’t be angry with me but… god Yuuri, I barely even _remember_ that night. I remember waking up in the middle of the night and you were gone. I remember waiting for you to come home. I… I remember asking you what you were doing and then… and then the next day I came home from the rink and… and you were _leaving._ And I couldn’t understand, we… we didn’t have some big blowout fight, I knew things weren’t good but, I couldn’t imagine you just _leaving._ ” His shoulders suddenly shook, suppressed sobs choking his words. “I almost lost you forever and I can’t even fucking remember what I _said_.”

 

Yuuri moved slightly so that he was straddling Victor’s lap, arms wrapped tightly around the other man as his hands rubbed soothing circles across the broad back. “I… it’s hard to explain why it hit me so hard that night,” he said softly against the silken silver hair. “I think that, for so long, I had fought to make you _see_ me. Make you proud. Make you _l-love_ me.”

 

Victor tightened his arms convulsively around the smaller man as his voice hiccupped slightly.

 

Yuuri fought to steady his voice as he continued. “And… and for a while, I thought I _had._ Made you proud I mean. Made you see me. But we were fighting so _much,_ and you said you didn’t think I could actually _do_ it, and, it was like everything I believed was a lie. I just… I couldn’t breathe.”

 

“So, you left,” Victor murmured, his tone carefully neutral. Yuuri sat back on his heels, biting his lip.

 

“I didn’t think I had a reason to _stay,”_ he said gently. “But, Vitya, I didn’t stop fighting for you to see me. Some part of me thought that, maybe if I proved I could do it on my own, I could _make_ you see me. And then… suddenly skating was all I had. So, I had to do my best to keep improving, keep _winning._ ”

 

“I’m so sorry,” Victor whispered. “The last thing I ever wanted was to make you feel like _winning_ was all you had. And that’s exactly how I ended up making you feel. You’re a brilliant skater Yuuri. You don’t need to prove anything to me or to anyone else. You’re amazing. Phenomenal. Breathtaking. I never wanted you to feel like I did. Like the ice was more important than life and love. And I went about it the wrong way and I said and did things that I will never forgive myself for, but Yuuri, I am so, so sorry. I _see_ you. I am _so_ proud of you. And I love you. I love you more than I’ve ever loved _anything._ ”

 

Tears were streaking freely down both of their cheeks as Yuuri launched himself back into the open arms.

 

“No Vitya, no. We both messed up. Let it go.”

 

They lost track of time as they held each other, whispering confessions and sorrows and love into the darkened room as the night stretched into morning. The first glimmering rays of dawn found them still curled together, Yuuri’s long fingers carding gently through pale, silken locks. Tired blue eyes shone up at him, happiness glowing in the fair features. “I should go back to my room, get cleaned up before Yura comes to drag me to practice,” Victor murmured reluctantly. Yuuri chuckled in agreement.

 

“I’m going to nap before Celestino does the same,” the Japanese skater said, leaning down for a kiss before letting the other man rise from the bed. Victor pulled on his shoes and retrieved his jacket from where he’d abandoned it the night before, turning back to steal one last kiss from his sleepy husband.

 

“Good luck, my Yuuri,” he said, a soft smile on his lips.

 

Cinnamon eyes blinked sleepily up at him before Yuuri spoke with a teasing lilt.

 

“Don’t worry, Vitya. I’ll show you the kind of skating I love best. That’s the only shortcut to a gold medal, right?”

 

Victor’s answering grin was as radiant as the sun spilling through the windows.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I deliberately left this a bit on the messier side, because emotion IS messy and sometimes that's the best way for me to convey it. 
> 
> I know it doesn't really answer ALL the questions (you can imagine that they talk about some of their other issues in the hours they spend curled up together) but I wanted to address "The Final Straw" and also show them continuing to heal. 
> 
> Parts of this chapter were originally written in very loose form just to help me get the idea of the emotions I was attempting to convey, but I've done my best to polish the conversation without losing the original feeling of the piece. 
> 
> Thank you for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> Ohmygoodness, I'm a happy fangirl. I'm devouring the blu-rays! I got the special edition version with the art book and the trio of mini-posters, they're going up on my walls!


End file.
